Tyger, Tyger

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William Blake (1757-1827) was one of the many writers whose work wasn't appreciated until after his death. Finally, his poetry was recognized as having brilliance it deserved.

Of all his writing, The Tyger (it became known as "Jerusalem") is the one that people say "Oh, yeah. I know/heard of that one."  The opening line is probably one among much literature whose opening line can always be recognized by any familiar with literature.***

Tyger Tyger burning bright,

in the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when they heart began to beat,

What dread hand? What dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain. 

In what furnace was thy brain?

Where the anvil? What dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears

Did he smile his work to see

Did he who made his work to see

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,

in the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Now, I am positive that not all readers got to the end of the poem. Heck, the first time I picked it up, I didn't made it through past first two quatrains. Language is complicated, vocabulary are strenuous. Blake asked questions, passionate and thoughtful questions.  

Answering any of those challenged my little gray cells.

 ***Of course, "Call Me Ishmael" .

William Blake rises large and high, way up there.

 

en.Wikipedia.org

Alright. WB Yeats, Robert Frost...those and other poets are way up there with their words.